you told me once
through the screen door
the warmth of lamplit nighttime
streaked around you jetting
through, spilling into the hall
like a massive golden spider eye
coincidences are God’s whispers

survey the grey sky swelling to black
ominous, powerful
take shelter from the wind
wild, destructive
observe the dark of the world
then sift through the wreckage
and tell me what you said again?

coincidences are God’s whispers
they’re prayers answered
just in ways you don’t expect
you told me once
over the phone
your voice splintered
by weathered signal

measure the outcome in erosion
dirt and dollar and displacement
seek refuge from the news
haunting, constant
excavate the buried homes
exhume the sunken corpses
and tell me what you said again?

small miracles
you told me once
at the dinner table
are god’s reminder that He’s here
a gentle touch, a wink and a nudge
if coincidences are God’s whispers
then what are his shouts?

analyze the way the water hits
the flood has no judgment
stand out in the depths
that endless abyss
dive down and search
search for answers, any answers
and tell me what you said again

you told me many things
about prayer, miracles, coincidence
about the way god whispers
if you’d only let yourself listen
I do listen, and I hear creaking and snapping, homes breaking
I hear the whispers, the prayers whispered until their lungs quit
in the desolate calm I hear him everywhere